


Homecoming (Never Quite What You Expect)

by aces



Category: Stargate: SG-1
Genre: Episode Tag, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-16
Updated: 2010-01-16
Packaged: 2017-10-06 08:49:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aces/pseuds/aces
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daniel just wants to get some sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Homecoming (Never Quite What You Expect)

**Author's Note:**

> An epilogue to the episode "Fire and Water."

"You made them think I was--"

"--lost to them."

"...Dead."

***

"Welcome back, Dr Jackson," General Hammond said after the linguist's debriefing, standing up and holding his hand out across his desk. The archaeologist fumbled wearily to stand up himself. "This place...wasn't the same without you, son."

"It's good to be back, General," Daniel offered Hammond a wan smile, shaking the proferred hand. The general glanced at Dr Fraiser, standing in the corner of the room behind Jackson; she nodded once in reply. Daniel caught the silent communication between them, and his lips tightened wryly, but he refrained from commenting on it.

"You and the rest of SG-1 are on standby for the next couple days," Hammond went on, having caught Jackson's interception of their looks. The general watched the young archaeologist carefully; the man was distant, obviously extremely tired, his hastily-acquired black t-shirt not quite tucked into his green pants. He'd found the time to change before his meeting with the general, but his hair was still damp. "I suggest you get some rest in the meantime."

"Oh, I intend to...sir," Daniel replied in his odd absent yet fervent way. "If you'll excuse me..."

Hammond nodded, and the linguist slipped out of the room, in a manner entirely too reminiscent of a ghost for the general's liking. He turned immediately to Dr. Fraiser.

"He's fine," she said quickly, folders and reports as always clutched to her chest. "Exhausted and in need of a good meal or two...but fine."

"And the rest of SG-1?" The three had been badly shaken by the apparent death of their other team member by fire. The general knew how close they had all become in the past year or less; it was inevitable, really, but even he was surprised by the depth of their feelings displayed. Even the chemical imbalances the doctor had detected couldn't explain away all that grief.

"Shaken, relieved, and probably everything hasn't quite sunk in yet," Janet answered his question. "They need the extra days off to reacclimatize, not to mention to let Daniel get back on his feet; thank you, General, for giving them the downtime."

Hammond nodded. "Thank you for your report, Doctor; you're dismissed."

She nodded, hesitating a moment before leaving the general's office. They were all relieved Daniel Jackson was still alive; the quiet, gentle archaelogist was a definite asset to the SGC, and no-one had quite realized that fully until it appeared he was lost forever. But Janet was still worried how well the team would deal with these new consequences.

***

Daniel kicked the apartment door shut behind him and looked around for a moment. He almost decided to flop onto the couch and sleep; so tired was he the walk down the hall to his room seemed too monstrous an effort. Thankfully they'd been teasing him; nothing actually looked really packed away. All his books and artifacts appeared to be left where he'd put them, as far as he could see with just a cursory glance, though there was evidence that they'd started something with the occasional banker's box lying around. Didn't look like they'd bother to feed his fish, either. Damn. That meant walking across the room to the tank.

He had just made it over there, and just dropped in a few flakes, and was feeling quite smugly satisfied with the fact that he'd managed to do all that on his own without passing out, when he heard a knock on the front door.

Damn.

He hesitated, hand holding the bottle of fish food still hovering over the tank, and wondered if he could get away with not answering the door. He didn't want to talk to anyone right now; he didn't feel up to stringing two words together in a coherent manner in any language. He just wanted sleep; he craved blessed, dreamless oblivion. But the knocking started up again.

"Come," he called finally, not moving from his spot, though he did at last set down the fish flakes.

The door opened, and a frowning Colonel O'Neill peeked his head around. "Haven't you ever heard of _locks_, Daniel?" Jack asked in his familiar irritable tones, shutting the door behind him and pointedly locking it.

Daniel shrugged. He'd been too tired to bother lifting his hand and deal with the locks. "What brings you here, Jack?" He tried to recall if Jack had ever seen his apartment before...yesterday? Whenever they'd supposedly come to pack his things away. It wasn't as if Daniel had had the apartment for very long; he'd spent a lot of his time after coming back to Earth from Abydos on the base or offworld and had only in the past few months acquired the place.

Of course, Jack and the others wouldn't have even seen this place yesterday if they hadn't thought he was dead.

Damn.

"Oh, nothing much," Jack had wandered into the middle of the room, his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets. He looked uncomfortable in jeans and leather jacket, which Daniel found amusing, considering it wasn't all that long ago the colonel had been apparently quite happily retired. "Just wanted to check up on you."

Daniel's lips quirked upward in a slight involuntary smile. "I'm fine, Jack," he replied. "Really. Just tired. I was planning on getting a nap now, actually," he gestured behind him in the general direction of the bedroom, "so if you..."

"Right," Jack interrupted him, apparently not having heard anything of Daniel's speech after the 'I'm fine' bit. "Of course, Daniel." Still he didn't move. His eyes seemed to be fixed on the Egyptian painting hanging on the far wall behind Daniel.

Daniel watched his friend for a moment and then sighed, relenting. He dropped his hand--it had still been pointing behind him--and shuffled toward the couch as he said, "Unless I'm mistaken, there should still be a couple beers in the fridge."

Jack looked up, surprised, following Daniel's movement across the room. "You've got beer in your fridge? We didn't notice that--when we were here..."

Daniel rolled his eyes. "Yes, Jack, I have beer. You obviously didn't make it to the kitchen." He sat down and waved a hand, indicating Jack should get the drinks.

"Cool," Jack said and disappeared into the kitchen for an instant. He came back with two bottles and handed one to Daniel, opening his own with a loud snap and sitting down next to the younger man on the couch. Daniel set his drink on the table unopened. He didn't feel up to alcohol at the moment, in any way, shape, or form. Anyway, he wasn't thirsty. He was thoroughly sick of liquid. And he didn't really care for beer; he'd bought that six-pack ages ago in a fit of absent-minded grocery shopping.

Jack noticed the lack of drinking on Daniel's part but refrained from comment. He took a slug from his own drink and glanced sideways at the archaeologist. "So you didn't _really_ tell us what happened on the planet," he prodded, not taking his gaze away from his friend, the casual tone belying the concern in his eyes.

Daniel glanced up, straight ahead, then dropped his gaze to the coffee table again after a moment. Jack couldn't interpret the expression on the younger man's face. "Uh, well..." the linguist started in a quiet, gentle voice. "Nem left his mate in Babylon over four thousand years ago and wanted to know what happened to her. So I told him. And...he wasn't too happy with the news." Daniel gave a little shake to his shoulders and fell silent.

"That was it?" the colonel replied. "He wanted some intel, and he kept you down there for that long, and made us think you were _dead_?" Jack snorted, covering his real anger with his usual sarcasm. "Some guy."

"He thought we--humans--were still under the control of the Goa'uld; he didn't think he could trust us." Despite his exhaustion, there was that spark, of passion, of intellectual curiosity and compassion, that sometimes seemed to be the only thing that could drive the archaeologist on when even his hope seemed in danger of failing him.

"Teal'c," Jack realized. Daniel nodded. Jack nodded himself, slowly, his brow creased. He drank some more beer before continuing. "He didn't...hurt you or anything?"

Daniel quickly looked up, meeting his friend's eye this time. "Not...intentionally," he replied at last, a distracted look in his pale eyes behind his glasses. He dropped his head, resting it on one of his hands, slipping the glasses off and pinching the bridge of his nose where they had recently rested. "He was desperate to find his mate," the linguist said tiredly, dully. "I had to tell him she was dead, that she had died millenia ago at the hands of one of his enemies."

"And you told him about Shau'ri."

Daniel nodded without removing his head from his hand. Jack could see the younger man was rubbing his temple. "It was one way to get him to trust me," he said with a slight, bitter smile that Jack could hear without needing to see on his friend's face.

"This is a nice place you've got here, Daniel," the colonel jumped up from the couch, restlessly pacing the spacious--if crowded--living room. "How come you've never invited us over?"

Daniel shrugged, slumping back on the couch. "We always went to your place," he said. "It never came up. Does it matter, Jack?"

"Nah," Jack shrugged. He stopped walking, standing in the center of the room and facing Daniel. "You look like hell, Daniel," he said critically after studying the archaeologist for a moment.

Daniel smiled and managed a slight, sardonic laugh despite his exhaustion. "Thank you for pointing that out, Jack," he said, shaking his head slightly. Jack certainly had a way with words. Perhaps it was just the colonel's ability to state the obvious so succinctly; it was certainly something he wouldn't have missed all that much if he really had died back there on Oannes--

Daniel closed his eyes, pushing the thought away. Nem hadn't killed him. He had thought he was going to die many, many times before, and he was still here, still alive. His friends had not abandoned him, just as he'd known they wouldn't. He still had to find Shau'ri.

He was still here, still alive. He had to remind himself of that.

"Did you really think I was dead?" he asked, opening his eyes to look up at the colonel with a little frown. Jack had been watching him the entire time, he could tell, but it took too much energy to be angry or embarrassed or resentful of some nonexistent intrusion. Jack had seen him exhausted and dead on his feet many times before; the entire team had seen each other through some terrible situations. This was, comparatively, no big deal.

Yeah. Right.

"Yes," Jack said quietly. "And no." He shrugged inside his jacket and wandered off again, inspecting the fish in their cage. "At first I was sure...numb, but sure. But then the whole shock thing wore off and...and I just felt like we'd abandoned you." He turned back, not quite meeting Daniel's eye. "We all felt like that."

Daniel nodded wordlessly. "I'm sorry we left you down there, Daniel," Jack stated almost formally.

He nodded again. He had been so..._frustrated_ down there, not just frightened and worried and the rest. Frustrated by the communications barrier, even after Nem had absorbed his language or whatever the alien did, frustrated by his isolation and inability to make Nem understand. He was so often frustrated, by his position at the SGC, by his position on the team, by his inability to find and rescue his wife. It was at times like that he wished he was...older. Calmer. He had vague memories of his father speaking with people at digs--Egyptian people, French people, English and German and American people--always calmly, no matter how irritated or angry he became. Daniel sometimes wished he could be like that.

"You didn't know," he said after a moment, looking up to meet Jack's eye and toss the hair out of his eyes. "It's okay, Jack. You didn't know." He smiled, sliding his glasses back on. "Anyway...you guys came back. And I'm here now."

Jack smiled back, one of his genuine, non-cynical, non-sarcastic smiles that softened his face and invariably made him less the pissed-off- with-the-civvie colonel, more the genuinely-affectionate-and-concerned friend. "I'm glad you're home, Dannyboy," he said.

"Me too, Jack," Daniel sighed with a long-suffering smile, "me too."

"Yeah," Jack took the hint this time, "I should let you get some sleep." He set his beer bottle down on the table, slapping Daniel firmly on the back. Daniel winced only slightly. "I'll see you around."

"Right," Daniel said. "I'll be back on base in a couple days, if not tomorrow. Take care, Jack."

Jack paused by the front door, which he'd just opened. "You too," he said, glancing back over his shoulder. He left.

Daniel blew out a breath and slumped over. God he was tired. Emotionally drained--nothing unusual, in the long run. But that conversation had seemed important to Jack--maybe just to make sure Daniel was real, and really back. They'd thought he was dead. It was so...odd. He felt distanced, still isolated and in some way still stuck on that planet, because of that. It wasn't something he'd gotten from any of them, not any feeling or such--not even from General Hammond or Dr Fraiser--just something internal. He'd lost them on Oannes, and he felt like he'd lost them here too--but it was temporary, he was sure, he hoped, he knew; things would get back to normal in time. Whatever the hell normal was. They'd held a memorial service for him, for God's sake...

Daniel's head jerked up at the sound of a loud knocking on his door. He'd dozed off, just barely, his thoughts disorganized and wandering out of his control as he did so. "What'd you forget, Jack?" he called out as he stumbled over to the door, unlocking and opening it. "You didn't--oh." He blinked. "Sam. H-hi..."

"Hi," she smiled up at him nervously. "Mind if I come in?"

He blinked some more, then held the door wide. "Suure...I guess." He shrugged a little, and she stepped into the room. "Can I get you a beer?" he asked, not quite sure what else to say, running a hand through his hair as he walked back to the coffee table. "This one's just come out of the fridge--"

"No thanks," she said. He stopped reaching for the unopened bottle he'd left there and sat down again instead. "Please," he added, gesturing toward the chair, the rest of the couch. She smiled, nodded, murmured a thanks and sat down on the chair, picking up the box already there and with just the barest hint of awkward fumbling set it out of the way on the floor.

"Soo..." he said when it became apparent she wasn't going to be the one to start this particular conversation, "what can I do for you, Sam?"

"I just wanted to make sure you got home alright," she said. "Janet told me you'd already left the base to get some sleep."

"Yeah." Which I haven't yet managed to do, he added to himself but didn't say aloud. He thought she just might take it the wrong way if he did. "Well, I'm here...as you can see. And I'm just fine."

"Right," she laughed. But she didn't move or say any more. She too had her hands stuffed into her jacket pockets, as if she were cold, and her gaze had drifted down toward the carpet and away from him.

He watched her for a moment. "I'm really here, you know, Sam," he said softly after a while. "And I'm really okay."

She nodded with difficulty, a strange look on her face. He frowned to himself, concerned. He hadn't really thought too far into how they all must have felt about his--death; he'd been too wrapped up in getting back to them, and then too wrapped up in a debriefing and a medical check-up and getting himself home. He almost felt sorry, as if it were his fault, as if he'd been the one to put them through that particular misery. And he supposed, indirectly, in a way...he was.

Damn.

"I'm still here, Sam," he repeated, as if saying the words again would give them more substance, create a reality of their own.

She shook her head, not in negation; it was a helpless movement, as she struggled to find words, an explanation for her complex emotions. She was a scientist; she had to pin everything down with a code, a category, an explanation. He was a linguist; he had to pin everything down with a word, with a descriptive, translate that same thing--idea, feeling, thought--into dozens of different languages. They both did it to facilitate communication, understanding, to build upon their knowledge and make miracles happen. Really, there were times when he felt a lot closer to her than to Jack.

"You were dead," she said, "...but you weren't. I was so confused. I wanted to cry, to mourn....but some part of me wouldn't let me do that." She shook her head again, a helpless, frustrated gesture at her inability to pin it down, to understand. She closed her eyes, blowing a breath out between her teeth.

"But I'm here now," Daniel said quietly and carefully. He absently pushed his glasses back up his nose before they could slide off. "So there's no need for the confusion anymore."

"I know!" she agreed, opening her eyes wide, blue eyes meeting blue. They shared a smile, and she started to laugh. "It's crazy, I know." She stopped laughing and looked at him again, honestly. "I'm just...I'm really glad you're back, Daniel."

He smiled without replying verbally, and a certain ache eased inside him. Things would get back to normal. "It would have been hard to break in a replacement," he said lightly after a pause.

She glanced up, a twinkling in her wide, pretty blue eyes. "Not to mention one who would have put up with Colonel O'Neill and Teal'c," she added mischievously. He grinned, the adrenaline from the humor making him feel slightly more awake.

She stood up. "I just...wanted to make sure you were okay," she said. "And let you know...that you really would have been missed." He was embarassed to note she was blushing slightly. "But anyway...I should go now. Let you get some food or go to sleep or something."

He stood up as well, escorting her to the door. "That's my plan," he informed her, opening the door for her and leaning against it. He smiled down at her wryly. "I'll see you on the base tomorrow."

She smiled back. "See you then, Daniel." She paused, then stepped forward and hugged him tightly. He squeezed back, realizing as he did so that he'd probably needed that comfort and contact almost as much as she had.

"'Bye," she said and left only slightly awkwardly. He leant against the door an instant longer before shaking himself awake and closing it. He turned around and at last headed toward the bedroom. He paused by the kitchen door. Did he want food first? No, he decided; he didn't have the energy to make himself something, let alone pick something out of the freezer and shove it in the microwave. Besides, he had no idea what food he had laying around that would still be edible after all this time...

Damn.

He pushed the thought aside as irrelevant for the moment and headed again for the bedroom. Another knock made him pause, and then he shook his head and called out, "Come in, Teal'c," with an air of mixed resignation, affection, and tired amusement.

The door swung open. "How did you know that it was I, Daniel Jackson?" the Jaffa asked as he shut the door behind him. "And why is your door not locked against intruders?"

Daniel shrugged, waving a hand uselessly in reply. Teal'c raised an eyebrow--it disappeared under the brim of his decidedly ridiculous straw hat--but made no other reply, other than to lock the door.

"So what can I do for you, Teal'c?" Daniel asked, not moving from the other end of the room. "Get you a glass of water? Tell you it's okay that you guys left me on the planet? Give you a hug maybe?"

The eybrow probably raised even higher, though Daniel couldn't see it. He wondered if Teal'c knew that Jack had on occasion called the Jaffa Spock--but then, Teal'c probably didn't even know who the hell Spock was. And Daniel felt in no shape to try explaining the cultural reference; the very idea of attempting it gave him a bigger headache than he already had. "There is nothing I require from you, Daniel Jackson. I merely wished to state my relief in the knowledge that you are alive and well and my desire to know if there were anything you required."

"If _I_ needed anything?" Daniel blinked. "Uh...no, Teal'c. Not that I'm aware of. But, uh...thanks, for uh...asking."

Teal'c bowed his head in acquiescence. "Um, Teal'c..." Daniel frowned as the thought formed itself in his mind. His mind really did seem to be working incredibly slowly at the moment. "How'd you get over here, anyway? You don't drive."

"A staff car brought me," Teal'c replied calmly. Not that he said anything any other way, of course. "Colonel O'Neill and Capter Carter had appeared to have already left the base, or I would have asked one of them for transportation."

Daniel concealed a smile. "You didn't have to go to all that trouble, Teal'c," he said. "But again, thank you."

"It is no trouble, Daniel Jackson," Teal'c said. "'You would do the same for me,' as I believe the phrase the people on your planet use," he added.

Daniel nodded slowly, wondering where this was going. "Y-yes, Teal'c, I would. You're my friend."

"Indeed. And you are my friend. But it is more than that. With the loss of any one of us, there would be no...team." He said the last word carefully, as if it were a word, the symbol for an idea, that he had just learned in a new language and wanted to make absolutely sure he had the pronunciation and meaning right.

Daniel blinked. "They would have found a-a replacement, if one were needed," he answered slowly, again picking his words carefully.

"Perhaps," the Jaffa said simply. "But he would not have been you. As Colonel O'Neill said, you are our conscience...our guide."

"He said that?" Daniel repeated in surprise. "Um...wow." He grinned up at the tall, dark man in the absurd hat. "Thank you, Teal'c, very much for your words." He composed himself, striving to say the next words gravely, and finding it easier to do than he'd expected. "You honor me."

Teal'c bowed his head again in acceptance. "Rest now, Daniel Jackson," he said, heading for the couch. "I will stay here and guard your home for you."

"Uh..." Daniel pivoted on one foot to face in the new direction. "You don't need to do that, really," he said with a lop-sided smile. The idea of Teal'c as watchdog was somehow vastly more amusing than it should be. He was getting decidedly punchy. But then, admittedly, it had been a long day. Days. Whatever.

"I insist," Teal'c said. He didn't look like he was going to budge from his position, seated on the extreme edge of the couch, for a very long while. "I will make sure no one disturbs your slumber."

Daniel shrugged, too tired to argue. Hell, Teal'c might even be able to manage that feat for a few hours. "Suit yourself," he said. "Help yourself to the beer," he added as he at last made his way to bed. "Or if you want, anything you can find in the fridge that's still edible."

"Thank you, Daniel," the Jaffa said to the retreating archaelogist's back.

Daniel paused in the hallway, unseen by Teal'c, and frowned to himself. Had he just heard Teal'c call him...?

Naaaah.

Daniel flopped onto his bed without bothering to remove his shoes, let alone any article of clothing, his eyes closing the instant his head reached the pillow. He sighed deeply and relaxed into the comfort of soft sheets, thick blankets, underneath him. This...this was heaven. For now, at least.

He was asleep in moments.


End file.
